Delightful Morning
by sphinx81
Summary: It’s a year after their marriage when Eowyn and Faramir decide to visit Edoras, for she misses home. After a night there, they quickly find anyplace is home as long as they are with each other.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's work or his characters, nor do I have the anything resembling the talent required to create such an extensive world filled with such original characters as done by this great fantasy writer.

First posted over at starrymantle at LJ. This is pretty darn fluffy but I may plan to eventually incorporate this into a larger fic I'm currently authoring. But for now, it's stand-alone. Enjoy.

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Sunlight filled the room, reflecting off the crystal window, in turn casting a golden glow on everything, filling the room with warmth on the soft spring day.

Faramir stirred, rolling over and shifting his position to get closer to the warmth radiating from his wife. Eowyn was already awake, languidly resting against the intricately carved headboard decorated with patterns of horses, their heads bent proudly in salute. Her thin cotton chemise lightly rustled as she leisurely brushed her hair, trying not to wake him. Slowly opening his eyes to the sound, he blinked, squinting against the sunlight breaking into the room. Groaning at its brightness, he rolled over, resting his head in her lap. Wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his head against her belly, he reveled in the softness of her body, the smell of her skin, the silkiness of her hair as it fell towards him. She then leaned forward and traced her fingers around his ears. After a while, she set down her brush on the golden-topped table next to their bed, trying to shift her position to allow him more comfort. But he stopped her, fingers tickling her belly, causing her to laugh at the sensation.

"You tease me husband!" she said between laughter, lightly thumping him on the head.

"Well your brushing woke me. Though," he said looking up, a sleepy smile coming to his face, "I would not wish to awake to any other vision."

"Nor I," she said laughing again as his fingers traced intricate patterns on her belly. "But you still tease me. If you do not stop, I will be forced to go."

"I wish only for you to stay…and that we should never leave this bed," he murmured, though laughter was in his voice as his fingers still danced on her pale skin.

"We cannot tarry, Faramir. We've have already missed breakfast!" she replied, still laughing, eyes sparkling with happiness. By now she'd maneuvered herself so that she lies next to her husband, face to face to with him.

"I am not particularly hungry," he replied, sitting up and resting his head in one hand as he leaned down over her, brushing his lips across hers.

"What will they think if we never leave our chamber?" she said, returning his kiss as she attempted to sound stern.

"I care not what they think...and neither do you judging by your wanton smile," he teased.

"Then you know me well," she said, bringing his hand to her mouth and brushing her lips across his fingers.

"'Tis privilege for which I thank the Valar everyday…"

"As do I," she replied, touched by his words.

Sighing with contentment, he rolled her over, his body spooned against hers as he settled her into his arms and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. Kissing her ear and nuzzling against her hair, he took a deep breath, the smell of roses invading his senses. The scent brought him comfort, for many mornings he watched entranced as she went through her daily ritual, running rose-oil soaked hands through her golden tresses, brushing, combing, and then tying some back, letting the rest fall free over her shoulders and down her back. He was glad she chose to wear her hair free in her own Rohirrim tradition, rather than the Gondorian one of complicated intricate knots. Soft and smooth as silk, her flaxen tresses had always fascinated him, a crowning glory with little need of a crown.

"But must we leave?" Faramir sighed, thoughts moving back to the situation at hand. Closing his eyes, his fingers interlaced with hers as he squeezed her with a hug. "I know we are visitors. But this bed...why must it be so comfortable? It tempts me, demands that I stay…"

"Would you rather it be hard as stone?" she countered, also closing her eyes, focusing on the exquisite feel of his body against hers. She absentmindedly let her fingers trace along his arm, over hard muscle and warm velvet skin, inviting and familiar.

"Yes," he replied, answering her question. "For then I would have no desire to lay in it. Though with you here, I am never want to leave, to tell you the truth," he continued with low chuckle. "So really, it does not matter about the bed."

"Then what would you have me do Faramir?" she chided with a smile as her fingers moved lower, tracing over his knuckles. For no matter how long she lay with him, she never tired of touching him, committing his body to memory with her fingertips.

"Send word that we have taken sick..."

"When were fine last night?"

"How would they know? I'm sure your lady-in-waiting can create some malevolent sickness to keep them at bay with fear of contraction..."

"Deception, my love? Surely, I thought you were beyond such things!"

"When more time with you lies at stake, I am willing to do anything," he replied, lips brushing her cheek as his hand moved to her waist and traced her skin, slipping lower to her thigh, the only thing between hand and skin the thin fabric of the chemise she slept in.

"I am sure," he murmured, mouth tracing kisses to her jawline as his hand moved to the edge of her shift, "We can find _something_ to do." His hand moved under fabric, lightly brushing, fingers slowly walking over soft skin.

"Oh, I am sure we will not be want for anything to do," she replied with a sigh in response to his fingers. "But we cannot tarry..."

"But it is required of us, my dear," he replied with a murmur, lips meeting hers.

"Mmmm…I must think on it," she said as she broke the kiss.

"I do not stop you," he whispered, lips pressing to her neck.

Sighing in pleasure, she moved, rolling to her back, causing him to move with her. Looking at his face, she marveled at the perfectly shaped lips, the strong jaw line, the aristocratic nose, the lightly tanned skin. But it was the eyes that pulled her in, those clear, sea-grey eyes that looked back at her, full of understanding and love, desire and passion, loyalty and worship. Such reflections took her breath away, and she pulled him closer, lips brushing his once and then deepening the kiss as she cupped his face in her hands.

Breaking the kiss, she sighed in contentment, desire running through her as his hands moved across the curves of her body as though discovering it for the first time, though this was one of many, many times they undertook such actions, never tiring of the challenge.

"Then we may tarry, M'Lady?" Faramir whispered into her ear, voice laced with passion as their bodies shook with desire and she rose to meet him.

"Aye. We may tarry, M'Lord," she gasped, skin burning with renewed vigor.


End file.
